


Between a Memory and a Dream

by aprilleigh



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Minor Drug Use, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3920245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilleigh/pseuds/aprilleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Laura and smoke mixed on his lips always made him a little dizzy.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between a Memory and a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Created for A/R Month of Love back in 2009. The prompt was ‘Smoke.’ Thanks goes to 2raggedclaws and dashakay for their betas/feedback. Title's from ‘You Don't Know How It Feels’ by Tom Petty. (The line that follows - ‘So let's get to the point, let's roll another joint’ could have been the subtitle) Some dialog lifted directly from Unfinished Business; A Day in the Life and Islanded in a Stream of Stars

This is what he remembered

 

1\.  

 Laura and smoke mixed on his lips always made him a little dizzy.

 

2.

The books were her favorite part.

( _That was your favorite? There wasn’t anything else that you enjoyed more? O_ _rgasms only last seconds Bill. Books last significantly longer.)_

(Making Bill speechless was another favorite.)

Laura loved listening to his voice. She liked his rough timbre, and she liked that she could feel the vibrations between them as he read to her.

Later, much later, lethargic from the drugs in her system she told him, “Don’t ever stop reading to me.”

He didn’t.

 

3.

He selected the books at random. He didn’t read the title or notice if the edges were warped from moisture, and he never looked to see if something was tucked between the pages.

He wanted to be surprised. He needed something to look forward to.

(She knew.)

He opened a hard bound book- one that used to be his, before it was hers, and inside was a gift.

 

4.

_That's a nice color on you._

_Thank you._

_It's good to see you, Laura._

_You too, Bill._

 

5.

Later, he would blame the cigarettes.

(Much later he’d say that he was an ass, and Laura would agree and giggle because _‘ass’_ is a very funny word.)

“I have more in my tent,” she said in a low voice that tickled his ear and made his stomach flutter.

The music and laughter faded as she guided him to her makeshift home. She tripped on a wooden pathway, and his hand lingered at her waist after he caught her.

She paused at the entrance of her tent and glanced at him, tilting her head in amusement when he didn’t follow her inside. Bill felt slow and a little thick-headed, and it was far too easy to ignore her pointed look.

Laura came back outside with a pair of cigarettes and she shared deep truths (Life’s a bitch and then you die) and he asked deep questions (What else did they try to smoke before finding this?)

They laughed and her eyes were wide and cheeks flushed as her giggles and smoke drifted toward the sky. And there was something about her laugh and her white throat glowing in the moonlight (a tidal wave bearing down on his addled senses) that made him catch his breath, and pull her to him. They kissed slowly, her lips on his, soft and smoky. His brain spun with over-stimulation, scattered and alive with light.

He was the first to pull away, and there was a prolonged, wondering silence between them in the dark and he found words had abandoned him. “I’m sorry… we shouldn’t-”

Laura reached over, cupping his cheek, and her thumb slid over his mouth silencing him. His lips were sensitive and he shuddered the intimate gesture.

“Don’t.” She drew back, and there was a strange sense of honesty between them. “It’s a nice night. And it’s been so long since I’ve slept out under the stars.”

“I--” and there was be nothing left to say except to agree. “It is a nice night.”  

 

6.

_Is this really it, Bill? Is this how we're gonna spend all the rest of our days? Maybe we should just enjoy this._

_I am._

 

7.

When he thought about that evening a few days later it was not with regret.

(He doesn’t do regrets. Just ask Lee.

Better yet, don’t ask Lee.)

But he found himself sending her a message. _Will be planetside in 5 days. Care to show me where you’re building the cabin?_

Her answer: _Of course._

 

8.

_“Guess what I am thinking about right now.”_

_“Give me a hint.”_

_“Mountains. A stream running into a little lake. Water so clear it’s like looking through glass.”_

_“Your cabin. The one you wanted to build.”_

_“It’s amazing how much I still think about it._

(He thought about it a lot as well.)

 

9.

His mouth warmed itself against her throat and she laughed as if shy. His mustache tickled her skin and she murmured something he couldn’t quite hear before giggling even louder.

He wanted to listen to her laugh the rest of his life.

  

10.

The sun hung low, streaks of red, pink and orange dancing like liquid fire across the sky. It had been so long since Bill had seen a sunset like this- come alive, lending its fire to the land and lake below. They sat next to each other on a slight rise just above the water, on a blanket Laura had brought with her.

Laura spoke. "Lovely, isn't it?"

She was staring at the sunset; he was staring at her. Her face glowed in the rich evening light, and he watched as she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “It is." Lovely was an understatement.

“It’s getting late.”

“I’d like to think it’s never too late.” He was saying several things with the simple statement.

“It’ll be dark by the time we get back.” She pointed out.

“It’s a nice night.”

Laura looked sideways at Bill, offering him a hint of a smile, “Are you suggesting we sleep out under the stars again?"

"Would that be so terrible?" Bill asked softly.

Her eyes sparkled and her lips curved in response. "It wouldn't."

There was a long moment of silence between them, and then she spoke again. “You know what would be perfect at a time like this?” She asked as she pulled out a hand rolled cigarette from the bag at her side.

“Where exactly are you getting these from?”

“Confiscated from my students.”

“I liked it last time. Made me tired though.”

“Is that your excuse?”

A small chuckle escaped as he responded “Are you saying I need an excuse?”

She looked at him long and hard for a minute, giving his half-serious question serious consideration before she placed the cigarette between her lips and lit it. “I guess it depends on what happens tonight.” They were being bold in a way they never had before.

Laura leaned back, exhaling and they watched as the smoke drifted up into the night sky. She reached over to hand him the cigarette, but Bill shook his head, “I’ll wait.”

“Wait for what? Gotta live it up sometime Bill.”

“I’m waiting until after.”

“After?” She leaned toward him, mouth brushing slightly over his ear. “After what? The sun sets?”

“I think we’ve seen enough of the sunset, don’t you?” Bill whispered confidently, just before kissing her. He tasted the sweet smoke on her breath and the richness of her, and he had to remember to breathe.

He could kiss her forever if she let him.

He (they) grew impatient, and clothing was quickly removed or pushed aside. His fingers found their way inside her, and she was wet, ready. She murmured "Now, please," and as he slid into her she bit his shoulder to hold back a cry.

With every stroke, he felt the tension building, pulling at them both. His hands broke free to roam her body, caressing her breasts, her buttocks, before sliding between their bodies to stroke their joining. She arched into him, and her fingers curled over the back of his neck, pulling as she gasped and shuddered, and the tremor that ran through at her release ran through him as well.

Then he was falling, or floating, or drifting like smoke from the end of her cigarette.

(He’s right. It _is_ better after.)

  

11.

Bill’s last evening on New Caprica was spent reading to her with the rain outside and the sheets twisted around their legs. Laura’s eyes were closed and her chin rest against his shoulder as his fingers played in her hair.

The room smelled of smoke and laughter.

She slid her fingers up and down his arm and he wondered how many nights in his empty rack it would take to forget her body wrapped around his.

“This is my favorite part,” she said, and he protested only because he felt like ought to.

(It was his favorite as well.)

She smiled, and pointed out the significant time disparity between an orgasm and a good story, and he tossed the book aside and attempted to change her mind.

 

12.

In the morning they said goodbye- she had class to teach and he had a flight to catch- and there was just enough time for a smile and a kiss as she handed him a box. “Can you take this with you?”

Inside, he saw her books mixed with his. “These were gifts.”

“They still are. But it seems to be the rainy season, and it breaks my heart to see them damaged.” She held up one of the books and he noticed the edges beginning to curl.

“I put a few books in there that I think you’d enjoy.” Laura smiled, and there’s a twinkle in her eye when she handed him the box. “Think of me when you read them.”

“As if I could forget.”

(Later he kicked the box in frustration and despair for leaving them behind. He cursed the pain in his foot and in his heart, and tried his damnest _not_ to think of her.

It didn’t work.)

13.

Her proximity was distracting, and he was intensely aware of every movement she made. She was laughing a little too quickly in response to his comments, and the way her eyes caught the light kept causing him to lose his train of thought.

_It’s worth it just seeing you laugh like that. We've been at war so long sometimes we forget what we're fighting for. Raise our kids in peace, enjoy one another's company. Live life as people again._

 

14.

 One day while in a briefing he caught her staring at him. When he looked up with an eyebrow raised she smiled and tilted her head to one side.

_“I miss your mustache.”_

_“Really? You may be the only one.”_

_“You don’t miss it?”_

(He did.

Lips on her neck, between her thighs. Hair tickling her skin.

Her laugh… Gods, he missed it.)

  _“I do.”_

 

15.

The electric, artificial heartbeats that came from the cardiac monitors greeted Bill as he entered the Life Station. The sound filled the space and it pained him to hear it.

The large overhead light was off, but a small light near the head of Laura’s bed was on, and it cast deep shadows under her eyes, highlighting her sunken cheeks.

And for a moment, he felt his own age settle on him like a mantle.

“I picked the book today. I hope you don’t mind,” she said as a greeting. She seemed eager to begin.

“I always defer to the President’s judgment.” Bill took the book from her hand, and noticed that the edges were curled, damaged from moisture.

She made a soft, huffing sound of bemusement, but didn’t say anything else.

He could feel her staring at him with an excitement he hadn’t felt from her in a while, so when he came to the end of the first page he looked up at her. “What?”

She gestured to the book in his hand with a smile and an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Open to page 61.”

Inside was a gift.

 

16.

He said goodbye once the cigarette was gone and Laura was asleep. He leaned down to kiss her--

(Laura and smoke mixed on his lips always made him a little dizzy.)

\--and while it was just a gentle pressure of his mouth against hers, it woke her. Bill pulled away and she whispered, “Don’t ever stop reading to me. Promise?”

“I’ll never stop.”

(He didn’t.)

 

17.

He found the first note in a beat up paperback novel, cover long since lost.

  _This was always my favorite. Thank you._

With the half-built cabin behind him, he wept.

 

18.

It was a new book that day.

The sun was setting and the soft reds, ambers, and rich purples filled the sky as he opened the book. Behind him is the cabin, built for one, but meant for two. The hardbound book was slightly expanded from moisture, and pages stick together, except where it neatly fell open to reveal a hand rolled cigarette and a note with a single word.

_Remember._

That evening he smoked instead of read. He watched the sunset and tried to count each shade of red and orange in the sky.

And he remembered.


End file.
